The second work put forth by Tory in 1512 was the 'Itinerarium Antonini.' It was the second book that he prepared for Henri Estienne, in whose establishment it has been said[32] (erroneously, I think) that he filled the post of corrector of the press. However that may be, the dedication, addressed by Tory to Philibert Babou, is dated at the College Coqueret the XIV of the Calends of September (August 19), 1512. Tory says to Babou that he had dispatched a copy of the manuscript of this book to him at Tours four years before (that is to say, in 1508), but that the person to whom it was entrusted for delivery to him had given it, in his own name, to somebody else. This time, in order not to be defrauded of the fruits of his labours, he had caused the work to be printed from his own copy, having carefully collated it with a manuscript lent him by Christophe de Longueil.[33] The volume is a sexto-decimo, remarkable for the beauty of its execution. The copy in vellum which I have seen at the Bibliothèque Nationale is still redolent of the fifteenth century. We find in it certain verses of the Burgundian Gérard de Vercel in honour of Tory, which prove that the latter was even then in some repute as a scholar, and as a printer, too; for the author contrasts him with the wretched printers of the day. The preliminary matter, by Geofroy Tory, is signed by the word CIVIS, printed in red. At the end of the volume the same word reappears in a very curious monogram composed of the letters CIVS so arranged that we can read the word CIVIS in all directions. Therein we may detect thus early Tory's taste for ciphers and devices, a taste to which he afterward gave free rein, in his 'Champ fleury.'
At this epoch occurs a momentous event in Geofroy Tory's life. On August 26, 1512, he became the father of a daughter, who was christened Agnes. I do not know the date of his marriage, but it was at least as early as 1511. A document of much later date, to which we shall have occasion to refer hereafter, informs us that his child's mother was named Perrette le Hullin. There is reason to believe that she, like her husband, was of Bourges, as the name of Hullin was common there at that time. Soon after the birth of Agnes, perhaps just at the opening of the term of 1512, Tory entered the College of Bourgogne as regent, or professor of philosophy. His lectures, which were continued for several years, were attended by a large number of hearers, if we may believe a poetical epitaph composed in laudation of him and published by La Caille.[34] Tory himself seems to refer to this professorship in his 'Champ fleury,'[35] but I have been unable to find any record of it, because, presumably, the new direction in which he was then turning his faculties required a certain time of preparation.
This is what happened: Tory, whose activity was very great, did not confine himself to his professorship,[36] but set about learning drawing (probably under the instruction of Jean Perreal, of whom I shall have occasion to speak again), and also engraving, for which he had a special bent. This apprenticeship, with the duties of his professor's chair,—for Tory drove art and philosophy side by side, as the epitaph just quoted has it ('philosophiam simulque artem exercuit typographicam'),[37]—engrossed him completely for three or four years; but at the end of that time, being far from content with his attempts at printing and engraving, or too enthusiastic to be satisfied with a partial result, he determined to study classic forms and outlines in Italy itself, of which country he had retained such agreeable memories that he speaks of it constantly. Consequently he abandoned his professorship and started south again. It was on this journey that he visited the Coliseum 'more than a thousand times,'[38] that he saw the theatre of Orange,[39] and the ancient monuments of Languedoc[40] and of other places in France and Italy,[41] which he cites as his authorities on every page of his 'Champ fleury.'
Tory does not give the precise date of this artistic journey; but it is established by a passage in his book, where he informs us that he saw the 'Epitaphs of Ancient Rome' printed in that city.[42] Now this book of Epitaphs can be no other than the collection published by the celebrated printer Mazochi, under the title: 'Epigrammata sive inscriptiones antiquæ urbis,' folio, dated 1516, but preceded by a license from the Pope, of 1517.[43] This hint of Tory's is doubly valuable to us, for it not only tells us the date of our artist's second journey to Italy, but reveals his predilection for typography. As we see, he was already studying the printing art with interest.
On his return to Paris, about 1518, Tory, who was not a wealthy man, was obliged to think about turning his talents to account, in order to earn his living. His principal resource seems to have been the painting of manuscripts, otherwise called miniature; but, whether because he did not find sufficient work of that sort, or because he considered another branch of art more useful, he soon gave his entire attention to engraving on wood, in which he speedily acquired considerable celebrity. About the same time, Tory also joined the fraternity of booksellers, following a custom then quite general among engravers,—a custom which their predecessors, the miniaturists, had handed down to them, and which was continued down to the eighteenth century.[44] In truth, it was not unnatural that those who decorated books should sell them, or, if you prefer, that those who sold them should decorate them. It was one way of earning more money. Desiring to signalize his début in the career of a bibliopole in a noteworthy way, Tory undertook to engrave for himself a series of borders 'à l'antique,' which he intended for a book of Hours,—a sort of book that was very profitable at that time, because of the great amount of work which it required; but the task was a long one, and he was obliged to work for different printers in the mean time. One of the first who employed him was Simon de Colines. Colines, who became a printer in 1520, as a result of his marriage to Henri Estienne's widow, commissioned Tory to design marks, floriated letters, and borders for the books that he published in his own name; he also entrusted him, I think, with the engraving of his italic type, which he soon began to use in conjunction with the roman type that he had from his predecessor.
But Tory's active mind could not be content with a single occupation. He was a patriot first of all, as his device proves. And so, far from allowing himself to be engrossed by his memories of the literary and artistic treasures of Italy, he began to study with ardour the monuments of his mother tongue, not only in those books printed in French—very few as yet—which he had at hand in his shop, but also, and especially, in divers fine manuscripts on parchment confided to him by 'his good friend and brother, René Massé, of Vendôme, chronicler to the king,' whose merits, entirely forgotten in our day,[45] he warmly extols.[46]
Now, while studying that same French tongue, so decried by the scholars of his time, Tory discovered therein beauties which required only a little cultivation to make of it the finest language in the world. From that moment our Berrichon, hitherto a partisan of the classics, shook off entirely the yoke of Greek and Latin, and thought only of the means of making French take precedence everywhere.
'I see,' he says, 'some who choose to write in Greek and in Latin, and yet cannot speak French well.... To me it seems, with submission, that it would better beseem a Frenchman to write in French than in another tongue, as well for the profit of his said French tongue, as to adorn his nation and enrich his native language, which is as fair and fine [belle et bonne] as another when it is well set down in writing.... When I see a Frenchman write in Greek or in Latin, I seem to see a mason clad in philosopher's or king's garb, who would fain recite a mask on the stage of La Baroche[47] or in the confraternity of La Trinité, and cannot pronounce well enough, as having too thick a tongue; cannot bear himself well, nor walk fittingly, insomuch as his legs and feet are unwonted to the gait of philosopher or king. Who should see a Frenchman clad in the native dress of a Lombard, which is most often long and scant, of blue linen or of buckram, methinks that Frenchman would scarce jest at his ease without soon slashing it and taking from it its true form as a Lombard dress, which is but very rarely slashed, for Lombards do not often work havoc with their belongings. However, I leave all this to the wise guidance of learned men, and will not burden myself with Greek or Latin save to cite them in due time and place, or to talk with such as cannot speak French.'[48]
Tory had found his vocation at last. He resolved to establish the superiority of his mother tongue in a special book, illustrated by engravings by his own hand, and intended particularly for printers and booksellers, who were in a position to distribute it so rapidly with the aid of their connections.